


The Laughing Red Hood

by OhStarsandGarters



Series: Gotham Unhinged [1]
Category: Batman (Movies 1989-1997), Batman - All Media Types, Batman: Arkham Asylum (Video Games), Batman: The Animated Series
Genre: Crazy, Domestic Violence, F/M, Insanity, Mystery, Other, Red Hood - Freeform, assault on arkham, mad love, orgin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-05
Updated: 2015-06-05
Packaged: 2018-04-03 01:04:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4080634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OhStarsandGarters/pseuds/OhStarsandGarters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Batman investigates a series of heists pulled on Rupert Thorne's legitimate businesses by a man in a red hood. Meanwhile, Gotham suffers from freezing temperatures.<br/>A Batman AU.<br/>This story contains characters who are well-established and beloved.  This is simply another interpretation.  It's all good fun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Laughing Red Hood

**Author's Note:**

> I have many harsh words for Nolan's renditions of both Batman and the Joker. That aside, hope you enjoy reading this AU series!

Vicky Vale was an intelligent, elegant woman of high social standing.  Her photography earned international awards in fashion as well as journalism.  Anyone, anywhere, for the right price and for the right reasons and morality could hire her. 

This time, however, Vicky Vale chose this latest theme because she wanted to break the mold she now fit into.  She needed something more than journalism.  She needed something more than a VOGUE magazine cover.  She needed more than a NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC documentary in her honor.

Vicky Vale needed Gotham.

More importantly, Vicky Vale needed Batman.  She needed the honor and brutality that he represented.  She needed the desperation on the faces of Gotham’s citizens. The coldness and cruelty of the human condition condensed into one city that was both a beacon of light and a harbinger of hell.

Perhaps setting out to prove that Gotham needed Batman and Batman needed Gotham was a bit audacious for even one such as Vicky Vale.  No one believed she could do it.  Every backer and financier she had garnered over a decade of hard work suddenly vanished like a southerly breeze in winter.

Vicky Vale was on her own in Gotham.

 

* * *

 

“Miss Harleen,” Alfred greeted as he unlocked the limousine door.  Alfred was a clean-shaven, well-dressed, older man.  His round glasses fit his pleasant face and posture so well they seemed to have been made specifically for him. 

The honey-blonde woman nodded elegantly, “Good morning, Alfred!”  Harleen was a pretty woman with a simple charm.  She was built like the gymnast she was: thin and wirey with the muscle needed to perform such daring tasks.  Her smile always lit up the surrounding air, like little drops of sunlight on glistening dew.

Gotham was unnaturally chilly this time of year.  Both Harleen and the loyal butler were wearing more than just the usual fall jackets.  Harleen had invested in a long, black and white winter scarf to wear over her usual black trench coat and Alfred’s gloves were insulated.  Even then, the chill seemed to seep into their very bones. 

“I had not thought to see you today, my dear,” Alfred’s voice had a gentle, English lilt that bespoke calm.

The television store to their immediate left was empty, the TVs all playing the same station: Gotham News.  The red-haired news anchor was talking about the recent robbery of one of Rupert Thorne’s legitimate businesses, a chemical plant.

“Nor I to see you, Alfred,” Harleen smiled, stepping forward to hug the old butler.  The string handles of the bags on her wrist cut into her pale skin making the area raw and sore.

“Master Bruce wishes you to know that he will not be joining you for dinner tonight.”

“Thank you, Alfred,” Harleen answered, her blue eyes glittering.  “I expected as much, you know,” she rubbed her wrists absentmindedly, “The Red Hood out and about.”  She nodded toward the televisions that were displaying a rough sketch of the criminal the police thought responsible for these latest robberies.

The news anchor’s voice could not be heard through the glass, but Harleen knew exactly what she was saying.  The Red Hood: is he destroying the dishonorable Rupert Thorne? or is he merely another menace for Batman to capture?

Alfred’s moustache twitched almost imperceptibly.

Harleen gave a sigh, a lonely, sad sigh.  Catching Alfred’s curious gaze upon her, Harleen straightened her back and smiled, “Would you like some help with the shopping, Alfred?”

“I would never decline such an offer,” Alfred smiled affectionately.

 

* * *

 

In the upper part of town, Vicky Vale sat in her apartment, curled in her armchair.  Her shoes were on the floor where she had kicked them, her coat hung neatly on the back of a wooden chair, her lunch in the oven, and the television on Gotham’s news channel.  She smiled to herself, obviously, the Red Hood had not gotten everything he had wanted out of the chemical plant as Batman had stepped in in the middle of the heist.

Eyes lighting up with a fire that only journalists know, Vicky sat upright and lept from her chair.  Grabbing her shoes, Vicky hopped around on one foot as she scrambled for her keys.  Both shoes on, but not tied, Vicky grabbed her coat and bolted out the door.  

The door slammed shut, but did not latch.

Vicky Vale was willing to bet her life that she knew where the next heist would be.

Red Hood would be back to Rose Chemicals.


	2. At Rose Chemicals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a meeting here, Batman!

A good criminal psychiatrist knows that there are certain things a person in that line of work needs:  a professional attitude, a heart of steel, a healthy psyche, and a moral code none can puncture.

Harleen Quinzel had all of these things.

Unbeknownst to most, Harleen disliked most people.  It was that attitude alone that helped her through every day she worked in a workplace that might as well have been hell.  Dealing with many irritable coworkers, Harleen decided to be gracious. 

Unfortunately, this attitude made her a bit of a doormat.

Warden Michet of Arkham Asylum observed this tendency of Harleen’s with an off-handedness that bordered on maliciousness.  There were rumors that the Warden had tried seduce Quinzel in exchange for a chance to move to a job with less paper-pushing and more psychiatry-ing.  Naturally, the pious Harleen had declined his offer, choosing to suffer in silence.

Harleen had left Alfred’s side as soon as he mentioned he was dropping by Wayne Enterprises.  She did not want to see Bruce.  In the three months they had dated, he had cancelled more dates than they had been on.  Her professional opinion was that he needed a stern talking-to, but, deep down, Harleen knew that Bruce Wayne was a busy man and she understood why he had to be gone so much.  She needed to tell him that she would not abandon him as so many others had done. 

Today was not the day to have that conversation with him.

Now, it just so happened, that Harleen’s route home happened to pass by Rose Chemicals.  It gave off an unseemly odor that seeped into everything like molasses.  Harleen paused to peer through the wire gates.  The plant was not far off the road – just a short walk down the curved driveway to the front steps. 

There were never cars in front. 

Today, however, was the exception. 

There were two cars: one old, one new.  The old car was parked, halfway hidden, by some bushes.  The new car was parked on the other side of the same bushes. 

Odd, Harleen thought, the plant was shut down due to the Red Hood’s break-in two nights before.

Then, her eyes widened with curiosity and she slipped between the wires.  Peering into the windows of the old car, Harleen recognized the clown mask that sat on the front seat as the Red Hood’s calling card.

Perhaps the audacious and flamboyant Red Hood had assumed that the police and Batman would never assume such a daring move from such an unseasoned criminal.  Never-the-less, Red Hood was striking Rose Chemicals in broad daylight! 

 

* * *

 

Batman, savior of Gotham, was watching and waiting.  The sun was going down soon, but the criminals had already started playing.  He was perched, upside-down like a bat, with heat-sensing binoculars pressed to his eyes. 

Rose Chemicals stank like a sewer in a tropical garden and Batman had about had enough of it.  He ignored the headache that threatened him and, instead, focused his binoculars on the criminals below him.

“Get the papers!” Red Hood hissed to a chubby henchman that was bent over a safe.

“Sure, boss,” one of the five henchmen answered, shuffling some folders.  His voice was slow and whiny, “I dunno why you want all of this.  Can’t we just burn it?”

Batman could not see the Red Hood’s face, but he assumed it was as red as his hood as the criminal exploded with anger, “GET THOSE PAPERS, YOU MAROON! I DO THE THINKING AROUND HERE! WHAT DO YOU THINK I HIRED YOU FOR?”

“Yes, boss.”

All five henchmen scrambled to do as their leader commanded, all crying out: “Yes, boss.”

One of the henchmen walked directly underneath Batman.

Here was his chance.

BAM!

The henchman had no idea what hit him.  All he could see was stars and then blackness.

The sound of a camera being clicked met Batman’s ears.  Looking up, he saw a thin woman with long, platinum blonde tresses taking pictures as fast as she could take them.  Groaning inwardly, Batman reached to his belt and pulled off a grapple hook. 

It was then that he heard, below him, a voice he recognized cry out in pain.

He scrambled down the metal stairs as fast as his well-trained legs could carry him.

 

Vicky Vale ran from Batman, clutching her camera tightly to her chest.

* * *

 

The Red Hood had also recognized the sounds of a camera and snatched a gun from the henchman at the safe.  He exited the little room and looked around.  He heard the sounds of running feet.  Turning to his remaining henchmen, the Red Hood shouted, “FORGET THE PLAN! BURN THE PAPERS! IT’S BATMAN!”

Throwing the Tommy Gun at the nearest henchman, the Red Hood took off at a run.  He took the stairs two at a time as he descended to the lower levels.  If he could find the switch to… AHA!  There it is!  With an evil grin, the Red Hood flipped the big red switch.

Immediately, the lights switched on.  The brightness stunned all but the Red Hood and he took his chance to flee.

 

* * *

 

Dr. Harleen Quinzel had stumbled on a hose and fallen down a flight of steps, crying out in pain as she did so.  Sure that she had broken something, Harleen whimpered and leaned against a railing that overlooked the now-heating vats of chemicals.

Cursing herself for her bad decision-making skills, Harleen could hardly hear anything over the sound of beeps and alarms and boiling chemicals.  The lights were giving her a headache.

Why, oh, why did she skip out of going to Wayne Manor with Alfred?  Why did she have to be curious?

Rubbing her ankle, Harleen blinked tears out of her eyes.  She had heard someone call out that Batman was here.  Perhaps he would save her.

Now, as fate would have it, at this moment, the Red Hood dashed down the steps and collided with Harleen, causing her to lose her balance.  Harleen seemed frozen in midair as she swayed for balance.  Glancing downward at the vats of boiling chemicals with fear, Harleen whimpered as she fell forward into free air.


End file.
